Camping with Lennie and John
by Teyerin
Summary: Based on a Germain play and a reader comment: Joe Fontana wants power Jack McCoy wants to be with the love of his life, and Lennie Briscoe wants to know how the heck they ended up in the woods in the first place.


"Camping with Lennie and John."

Disclaimer: Still don't own them; still going to work daily to make a living.

Summary: Joe Fontana wants power; Jack McCoy wants to be with the love of his life, and Lennie Briscoe wants to know how the heck they ended up in the woods in the first place.

Author's Note: Another title/story inspired in part by a play – this time "Camping with Henry and Tom" by Mark St. Germain and a reader's comment of "Couldn't you see these guys…?" Timeline is mildly morphed for a few minor details.

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Under normal circumstances, in typical New York City traffic, he was considered to be a good driver, an awesome driver, a careful driver. He cared about his expensive car. However, away from the city, away from the traffic, away from the normal sources of adrenaline, the driver was a wreck.

"That deer came out of nowhere!" Joe Fontana said as he gestured toward the direction they had come, "And look what the heck it did to the car!" he said, his other hand gesturing towards the damaged front of the rental jeep.

"Yeah," Lennie Briscoe said as he got out on the passenger's side, "I'll be sure to give it a ticket for jaywalking."

Joe turned, his eyes narrowing slowly, "Look-."

"That's something you might not have done, Joe," Jack McCoy said before bailing out of the backseat, thankful he chose the one behind Lennie.

Joe turned his ire on McCoy. "Oh? And what experience do you have in driving in the woods?"

"Me?" Jack said, turning to walk backwards now to where the deer/car collision took place, "More than you do when it comes to cars," he said.

Lennie chuckled. "Maybe you shouldn't have spent so many summers working on the golf courses in Chicago, friend."

"Well, look here _friend_," Joe said, "at some point someone's going to have your back and with a mouth like that, what makes you think it's gonna be me?"

Lennie clapped Joe on the shoulder. "Relax. We all know the importance of laughing off things like this. Besides," he paused. "You've tried something no other perp's done before." Off of Fontana's look, Lennie said dryly, "You tried to execute an executive district attorney with an elk."

Before Joe could reply, Jack hollered back, "It's still alive!"

Walking to join him, Joe said to Lennie, "For your information, it's a deer, not an elk."

"Well, I like my alliteration," Lennie said, standing beside Jack now.

"You prefer alliterations, too, eh?" Jack said then looked from the deer to Fontana. "That's one way to save ammo I suppose."

Joe shook his head, not enjoying the badgering, not enjoying the guilt over a lamed animal and not enjoying the fact that it was going to be dark soon. "Why don't you see if your phone works, genius and call-?

"Ghostbusters?" Lennie and Jack said simultaneously Both men took a few cautionary steps back as Joe knelt down to the wounded animal.

All joking aside, Jack knelt down. "Maybe we should see-."

"No. It needs to be put out of its misery," Joe said.

"You could try backing the car up and going for a second run," Lennie said, "because I didn't bring my gun."

"Don't look at me," Jack said, "I don't own a gun."

Joe sighed. "I didn't bring my gun either." The three of them glanced towards the truck. "Think a tire-iron will do it?"

Lennie nodded. "I'm sure we've all played stickball at one time or another. Well, Joey here can reference his golf swing instead-."

"I'm sure there's no difference between the two," Jack said.

Both men rose at the same time eyeing each other: Joe with annoyance, Jack with amusement. "Hey, Lincoln, why don't you go out and build us a log cabin," Fontana said.

Lennie stepped in between them with his arms out. "There's a reason why we brought a tent, Joe," Lennie said. "You know just in case your cousin's cabin isn't up to par, you said."

"Besides," Jack said putting a bit more distance between him and the Italian, "it's possible that the deer could…"

Joe let out a heavy sigh. "Fine. Fine, then let's see if we can get the car going again."

The car was diagnosed lifeless and given up as a lost cause as the sun began to set.

"Well here's another nice mess…" Lennie said doing an Oliver Hardy impersonation. "How far is it from here to the cabin?"

Joe glanced up the road, to a map, then back to the car's engine. "I'd say two or three miles."

Jack got up from where he sat and said, "I'm going to check on the deer."

Once he was out of earshot, Joe said, "Are you sure he shouldn't be in a zoo?"

"McCoy? Yeah, he goes there daily – kangaroo court, remember?" Lennie took the spot vacated by Jack and began reading a paperback.

"I'm just saying, he's awfully worried about-."

"You hit a deer, Joe. We're stranded. Jack doesn't…. It's that funny 'sparing a life' thing that's a rarity for a district attorney."

"I heard that," Jack said making his way back to the group. "No sign of the deer. Well, change that – there's a minor trail of blood going off in another direction."

"He might make it," Lennie said.

"He might make it," Jack repeated. "And my partner told me that your partner told her that you couldn't hear." He took a spot on a nearby boulder.

Lennie shook his head. "Don't go picking on Nina Cassady –she's just a kid. Besides, it's only when I'm reading," he said returning to his book. "Or when it's something worth ignoring, which seems to come up more and more frequently."

"Hey," Joe said slamming the hood shut, "you don't go ignoring me, do you?"

"What was that, Joe?" Lennie asked.

The Italian shook his head. "So, are you guys up for a two mile hike or do you want to pitch the tent here?"

"I say we hike," Jack suggested. "Hit and run here, hit and run in New York – I'm not seeing a difference, are you?"

"Hey, Mr. Magoo, we got to work on your eyesight," Lennie said. "But, I'm with him, Joe. Let's go."

The walk was completed in silence, each man lost in their own thoughts, tempered by the occasional raindrops. They entered the darken cabin just as the clouds opened up.

"At least we've plenty of firewood," Joe said. "We'll just get a good one going and-." He uttered a curse. "What the hell are we going to start it with?"

"Well," Lennie said taking out his flashlight to scan the gradually darkening room, "there's the tried and true 'rubbing a couple of sticks together' routine."

Joe shook his head. "See if the gas stove's hooked up."

Jack took something out of his pants pocket. "Matches, anyone?"

The fire going steadily, the men found a spot to sit and warm up, their suppers finished. Lennie took out the pocketbook again and resumed reading, much to Joe's chagrin and Jack's curiosity.

"Whatcha reading?" Joe asked leaning over as if to grab the book from him.

"Conan Doyle," Lennie said leaning sideways. "You should try him sometime, Joe."

He shook his head. "You want the originator of mysteries, go with Poe."

"And here I thought you only cared for poetry," Jack said, giving Lennie a questioning nod of permission. Lennie held the cover up so the other man could read the title. "I don't remember that mystery," he said.

"Well," Lennie said glancing back at the cover then returning to his place on the page, "it's a mystery to me why he wrote it. Nothing against another person's beliefs, but this one was literally 'out of this world.'"

"You mean Conan Doyle's beliefs in fairies and the afterlife?" Joe asked. "You know… whatever people believe, so long as that belief doesn't get someone else killed, more power to them."

"You seriously don't believe-." Jack said.

"Of course I do," Joe said, surprised that Jack would question him. "Aren't you the one who's always standing up for the first amendment and such? Didn't you get into your fair share of troubles stating those beliefs?"

Jack chuckled. "I got into my fair share of trouble over a great many things. But, to say that 'I'll leave you alone so long as you leave me along' approach is…."

"Worrisome?" Lennie offered.

"Yes."

Joe shook his head. "Not if you know what the whole picture is. Let me tell you, if I were in charge of policies and politics-."

"Wait a minute," Lennie said, "are you sure that _you_ hit the deer and that the deer didn't hit _you?_"

"Shaddup, Lennie. I'm trying to be serious here. The way an officer handles the job…that's not terribly different than how a city, county, state or federal official handles their respective territories. Lay out the ground rules, be consistent on the follow-through and how much trouble could there be?"

Jack stared at him. "I never knew you, Joe. I mean, I remember the rumors and jokes back in Chicago, but… You? A politician?"

"Can you believe this, Lennie?" Joe challenged. "Do you think you could do any better?"

"No," Jack said shaking his head. "Why do you think I'm doing all I can to avoid _that_ job? If I had my choice of perfect happiness, it would be to be with the important woman in my life."

"Woman or women?" Joe asked. "Lennie, are you going to pitch in here or what?"

"Or not. The only side I'm taking is mine. I'm not a 'North-sider' or 'South-sider.' I'm a sideliner."

Jack chuckled again. "I'd slug you, Joe if I knew Lennie wouldn't throw the book at either of us."

"Oh, the night's still young, Jack," Lennie said lazily turning a page. "That and this book's getting boring."

"So why are you still reading it?" Joe asked.

"Sorry, did you say something?"

Jack's laughter crescendoed then died down. "Joe, I may not have loved her mother as much as I thought I did in the beginning, but my daughter's my world. If I were given the choice of either her or the job….That's a non-decision."

"That wasn't the decision you made some twenty-odd years ago, though," Fontana said crossing his legs. "In fact, it's amazing how many other 'non-decisions' you've made over the years."

This time Lennie lowered the book, eyes looking at the words below, but focused on the speakers and their words on either side of him.

"Joe," McCoy said leaning his thin frame back, propping his arm on a bended knee, "I know you know of my old man just like I know about your whole family in blue. You want to try your hand at some power, take my job. No, really. You take my job; I'll take my retirement dream out north-east and Lennie will take his peace of mind, I'm sure, knowing that…. never mind."

"No, you started it, so finish it! You've had that job offered to you so many times, I wonder why they keep asking."

Jack muttered a curse under his breath. "Don't you think I've asked the same question myself? Joe, politics has _never_ been my thing and I know I'll have to jump ship if they insist that I walk that plank. But, tell us, Mr. Perot, how do you intend to fix it all?"

"It isn't that hard," Joe said.

"The country's never been known to be easy," Lennie said quietly.

"Lennie, I thought you and I were friends here. What's going on?"

"What's going on? I'm sitting here minding my own business of boring books and preparing to referee something I don't want to be in the middle of. If you think you could do a bang-up job, then go through the ranks and give some of these other bozos a run for their money."

"I just might do that," Joe said.

"Here or in Chicago?" Jack asked. "After all, wasn't it your-."

"Hey, leave family out of this," Joe warned.

"It begins at home," Jack said. "That's what your great-uncle, Dennis said, right, just before he ran for mayor?"

Joe looked at him, amazed that he knew something like that. Compared to what he knew of John J McCoy, Sr.; mostly the 'lovable, teddy bear' kinda guy who could go from teddy bear to grizzly in sixty seconds. "What do know about my great-uncle, Denny?"

Jack thought the question over. "Some joked how he was either going to be another Edison or Ford. He had the potential to be either or both if he wanted, but had been known to say that 'It begins at home.' It wasn't until the last of the children had gone off to college that he turned his attention to politics."

"So," Fontana said, "you don't think this is a 'madness' that runs in the family?"

Lennie looked from one man to the other and said, "Personally, I think we're all mad."

"Lennie," Jack said surprised, "you're the sanest one of us. How could you say such a thing?"

"Proof of his own madness?" Joe offered.

Lennie gave Joe a look. "You know what? Maybe you should be a politician because you're sounding as senseless as one. Why can't you guys just accept the fact that the track you're on is the track that you chose? Wherever it goes, whatever anyone says, it's _your _track, _your _decision. I'm not going to sit here and say, 'Way to go, Joe. Go become a pompous ass.' And Jack, I'm the last one to want to push you out the door and say 'Go spend time with your daughter.' Hell, that's like either you or I giving Joe marital advice."

"Fine," Jack said, "you've proven your sane insanity." He brought both of his knees up to his chest. "Curious question, in a desperate attempt to change subjects…" He paused. "Is there any one particular moment you regret? Anything you could go back and change?"

"That's pure fantasy," Lennie said. ''But even if one could change, the next question ought to be, 'should we.'"

The room was silent a while; dwindling flames flickering light about the room. The moon had shown its full face according to the clouds' allowance. Owls and crickets could be heard in the distance and just below the window.

"Francesca," Joe said at last. "Francesca was a girl in my class whom I competed against for student class president or something. That was one of the few times I had shown a fierce, competitive side. I let it get ugly with the underhanded name calling and the rumors. Needless to say, I won, with a slogan of honesty and respect."

"I take back what I said earlier," Lennie said. "Politics is a madness that runs in your family."

Joe gave a weak smile. "Well, the thing was, she had the same slogan, and lived by it, too. In the end, she knew I was behind the dirty tricks and still had the class to accept the Vice-President position."

"I can only imagine how awkward that was," Jack said.

"Oh, you've no idea. It turned out to be quite a term, though. We were more like equals during that turn."

Lennie gave a slight nod. "How did your folks react, if they found out, I mean."

"My great-uncle Denny gave me a lashing that to this day has not left this memory. It's that minor fear inspired by him why I won't become a parent."

"There wasn't a mean bone in his body," Jack said.

"Takes one to know one," Joe said. "And I know you know what that means. But, truth be told… It was whether or not I could be as good as he was."

Lennie shook his head as he closed the long-ignored book in his lap. "I'll ignore the Chicago reference and tell you, as one father to a yet-to-be-one, there's no testing to determine who will or won't be a fantastic father or a marvelous mother, or hell, even a competent parent. It's… Joe, you're an idiot."

"Fine. You and McCoy agree and I know you just said you don't take sides and all, but-."

"I haven't called you an idiot. If I were to hold out the label of 'idiot,' I'd claim it for myself," Jack said.

Lennie gave him a look. "If you want it that way….." He made-believe of handing a sign on a string, saying, "Here's your sign."

This time it was Joe's turn for a hearty laugh. "When did you turn into Andy Rooney?"

"Give me sixty minutes," Lennie said, "and I might tell ya."

Jack stretched out again as Lennie pulled his legs in. "What regret will you share in the meantime?" Jack asked. "Or are you going to prove your sanity here?"

"I'll offer the evidence of wisdom of my years," Lennie said. "So, come on, Jack. Finish this duel here."

Jack shook his head. "It wasn't dirty politics." He took a deep breath as if to pull the memory in, and then let it out slowly. "It was rigging something – someone, up to take the fall."

"Entrapment? You, Jack?" Lennie asked disbelieving. They had their differences on when and how to twist, bend, fold the law, but to blatantly break it?

"There was this bully on the street where I lived. He and his buddies used to steal from this bodega on a weekly basis. Some neighbors tried helping out by calling the police on Haskell and his gang. Nothing happened, except for more vandalism in the neighborhood – aimed at the neighbors who 'didn't belong' for trying to rat Haskell out.

"My siblings and I went to the bodega. I remember deliberately grabbing a handful of candies from one of the jars near the cash register. I remember the owner looking me in the eye as I did this, loosening my watch as I did so. My younger sister, who wasn't one to be left behind in any of the schemes her brothers played, did her part.

"She went up to Haskell with her treat paid for and was 'bumped into' by the brute. She apologized. He shoved. I being the big brother in charge, shoved back. Hell, I punched him." Jack paused. "Haskell, expectedly, punched back, sending me into the sidewalk where he stood over me, delivering punch after punch. I waited until he leaned forward enough; his jacket pocket within arm's reach, and deposited the earlier items."

"What happened after that?" Lennie asked.

Jack shrugged. "My father got involved; Haskell got what was coming to him, and a bit more, I'm afraid, and the bodega owner was left alone for the most part afterwards. Well, at least from Haskell's crowd."

"Bull," Joe said. "You grew up on Damen Avenue, right?" Jack nodded. "We're talking about Mr. Soto's shop on the corner?" Again Jack nodded. "I seem to remember…." Joe kept that part to himself for now. "You're going to tell us that nothing else happened after that? To you, I mean?"

"Oh, that," Jack said as if that was meaningless. "My old man gave me a 'lesson' before intensifying my fighting lessons. End of story."

Lennie looked at the man he thought he knew something about, turned and saw more to the friend whom he had confided in after the other man's move. If that wasn't a shell-shocker, then this probably would be, Lennie thought.

"I killed an unarmed mother while her children watched."

The silence in the room had the potential to strangle them all.

Lennie focused on the dancing flames, renewed in height and warmth after Fontana had tossed another log in. There were very few people he discussed the war years with. These two men were not of that circle, neither of them having served. Neither showed disrespect to those who served their country. On the contrary, they spoke up loudest in regards to soldiers.

"It was during my first tour. My unit wasn't exactly gifted the best commander with communicative skills. We ended up where we shouldn't have been, yet turned out we needed to be. If that makes sense to you, then…" Lennie stared at the flames, almost seeing those who had died, had burned, come to life before him again.

"I turned around at a sound that, under normal circumstances – whatever that was anymore – wouldn't have made me flinch. I jumped. In the corner of my eye, I saw something glitter, captured by the daylight, you know? Like an idiot, assuming the worse, I fired.

"It wasn't even that sharp of a knife. Truth be told, it wasn't a knife, but that's what one of my officers kept telling me over and over, as if saying it made it so. Her two little children were huddled in a corner, out of sight. I never told my officer about them. Part of me wonders if they made it out alive."

Lennie sighed. "Part of me doesn't want to know the answer to that question, one way or the other." He unconsciously rubbed his knee. "Sometimes, I think I see them, on the streets in the city. Sometimes, I wonder what they'd say if they knew. Or, what if they knew; what if I knew and chose to be blind to that knowledge?"

The room was silent for quite some time.

"Yep, war's hell," Lennie said at last. "So, Joe, if you are going to take charge in a higher office, you may want to see what you can do about that. The useless ones started under phony pretences, in particular."

"If I could find a way to set up the ultimate deterrent for wars, I would."

Jack looked at him. "How? Create missiles that give the impression of 'If you fire, we'll fire harder?' That…You might as well shout 'the one with the biggest stick wins.'"

"It worked in stickball, didn't it?" Joe challenged. "The teams that usually won had-."

"Not always," Jack said. "Some of us didn't dare grab the desired, larger sticks on the grounds that if we lost, our old men would use them on us instead. I learned that after three games."

"He didn't?" Lennie asked incredulously. "How did he find out?"

Jack chuckled bitterly. "How did he _not_ find out would be the better question. Anyhow, some of us learned it wasn't always about size." He sat up and leaned forward towards Fontana. "Joe, can you imagine how much danger is involved if we, and I mean we because we're the country arrogant enough to do it, were to create something so powerful that it would annihilate life as we know it?"

Lennie nodded, contemplating. "And if we said 'step down or we'll fire,' and they don't because it's a dare…"

"Or worse," Jack said, "we were to fire first, forcing the other countries not hit to respond in kind…"

Joe let out a loud audible sigh. "I'm not talking about World War Three, guys."

"Might as well be," Jack said. "I'm not saying we shouldn't enforce the law, but there are some limits to how much we can control."

"See," Joe said, "that's why it irks me that you have the job you don't want."

"I have the job I want," Jack retorted. "I just don't want the one above me, that's all." He leaned back, shaking his head irritated. "You try telling me I should run for president, and I'll show you something else. Besides, if anyone in that office is going to run, it will probably be Arthur."

Lennie nodded again, picking up his book absently. "Joe, I think you might be going in the right direction; it's just that you're stretching too far. I agree with Jack that it begins at home."

"And how, exactly, are you defining 'home?'" Joe asked, his voice still carrying a slight edge to it.

He shrugged. "That's your call, pal. I think you'd do a heckuva job here. If you want to try Chicago, then fine. If you want to try Italy, then I've one word for you: 'mafias.'"

At that, Joe burst out laughing. "Lennie-."

"I mean it, buddy. You're strong and all, but you don't strike me as one who could 'play nice' with the neighborhood wise-guy."

"Oh, and like you'd ever be mistaken for a hit-man yourself, Lennie," Jack said trying to suppress a laugh of his own.

"It could happen and it has," Lennie said as a matter of fact. "I do a sight better than you trying to pass yourself as a rabbi, Jack."

"You know my thoughts about religion," Jack said.

Joe leaned back to be more comfortable. "I don't. I'm curious, how well did you fare after leaving the Windy City? How well were the lessons from-?"

"School isn't the only place of learning, and the churches don't always have the best doctors for the soul," Jack said. "I learned from a good friend of mine…" Jack's voice trailed off at the return of the memory. He didn't return to the topic and neither man pressed him to do so.

Lennie suspected he knew the context and circumstances of his friend's dilemma, had been familiar with it a number of times himself. This time he turned the book over in his hands. "You know, Conan Doyle's got it all wrong," he said at last, tossing the book across the room. "Remind me to check out some C.S. Lewis, will ya?"

Jack smiled and Joe shook his head. "So, from one writer to another," the Italian said. "Who's to say that anyone has the right idea?"

"That, my friend," Jack said as he tried to stifle a yawn, "is something that requires a deeper level of thought, more than what I'm capable of at this hour."

Lennie flat out yawned. "I'm inclined to agree." He nodded towards the darkness. "Think Franklin had the right idea of 'early to bed, early to rise.' Show me which cot is mine, Joe, because I'm calling it a night."

"That's a good idea," their host said. "They're just back there, grab whichever one has your name on it. I'll safeguard the fire."

Jack turned to Joe as he rose, "So long as you do a better job of that than you do driving," he quipped.

Joe turned, a big grin on his face. "Hey, McCoy, if there's anything to this afterlife business, I'd hope you come back as a deer."

"So long as you don't come back as a tire on a reckless driver's car," Jack retorted.

Lennie called out from the sleeping area. "Would you two give it up, already? We're not in Chicago!"

And with that, so ended the first night of camping.


End file.
